


A Midnight Invite

by poppunkwolf



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/F, Friendship, Gen, Other, Romance, Sexual Content, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 16:13:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21164456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poppunkwolf/pseuds/poppunkwolf
Summary: Things heat up between Annalise and Tegan at the salsa club.





	A Midnight Invite

In the walls of Caplan and Gold, she is buttoned, fierce, updo in perfect place, a practiced no-nonsense gravitas. But here in the middle of this club she’s freer, more playful than you’ve seen her before. Her hair swings down her back. Her arms lift with joy and ease and you match her energy and feel the allure. Everything bad, everything that might make your shoulders clench and your eyes dart, just melts into a vulnerability, a freedom, an elixir sweet beyond explanation. She’s a stirring movement like sugar in sweet tea, she’s serving hips and swaying intoxication in that unbelievable red dress, her hair swinging down her shoulders in that ponytail.

And it’s almost strange, to notice someone. To notice Tegan. To be aware of yourself becoming attune to the curve of her jawline, the place on her face you want to run gentle fingers, place exploring touches of your lips. To be attune to her energy, the radiance and fun underscoring the twist of her hips, the cocking of her head, beckoning of her chin, a come-hither gesture with her limbs, her fingertips asking for you to get closer. You follow, you give into the tug in you.

“There it is! I knew she had it in her,” she says with a lighthearted laugh. She puts a hand on the small of your back and pulls you against her so that there is no room for Jesus between you.

When the song is over, she leans her red mouth just a breath away from your ear and says, “They closed the rooftop but I bet you we can sneak by.” You smile, you return her mischievous nod.

“C’mon.”

Commanding total queen-bee-yes-I-am-supposed-to-be-doing-this confidence, she strolls purposefully past the guard, nods to him, and ducks under the ribbon. He glances away unfazed, and you smile as you redirect your sight to the woman holding you by the hand and pulling you up the stairs.

She points to places off against the skyline and you follow just enough to know that she’s a Philly girl from deep inside. She laughs about the nights she spent kicking rocks around the Wendy’s parking lot with kids who never went on to make partner and you sense the melancholy just beneath her determination not to ever go back to that side of the tracks.

She mentions someone named Cora but stops abruptly.

Looking out at the city lights, you say, “I don’t think it ever leaves you, when you truly love a woman. It’s not the kind of thing you just move on from.”

“No matter how much you wish you could,” she agrees. “Not when it’s real. At least, when you think it is. Maybe it was, then. Sometimes I feel like I shouldn’t have given it up. And I wonder if it will happen again.”

“I feel that way sometimes,” you confess, almost a whisper, but she snorts.

“_You_ don’t get to say that. Because you don’t even get out and try.”

“I came here tonight,” you retort, saucy.

She steps out of her heels and scoops them up by their straps, heading to a couch against a wall on this rooftop. You follow, sit beside her.

“I didn’t think you were going to join me tonight,” she confesses. “What made the enigmatic Annalise Keating come out of hiding?”

“You invited me.”

She is leaning into you, hear head against your shoulder. You touch her face, pull her up, kiss her. When her lips brush against yours, you feel a pressure in your heart.

She slips her hand to brush behind around your head, pulling you in, kissing you deeply, and you know you’re so spellbound by her soft lips, her skin, her smell, the curve of her body as you slide your hands around her waist, fingertips along her thighs, that you’re not going to say no to anything she has to offer tonight.

She slides her body closer to yours, putting hear hand against the back of your head protectively as she lays you on this couch. You’re aware you’re outside, but here on this rooftop there are very few ways anybody could see you and you’re willing to take that chance, separating your legs as she climbs on top of you, so that you’re wrapping yourself around her.

The dress she’s wearing barely clings to her. Your lips leave hers so that you can place them against her shoulder, pulling her dress further down as your other hand slides under the bottom hem.

Her thigh is between your legs, and she rubs her body against yours as she kisses down your neck. You sigh into her neck, her jawline, as you let her dress gather at her waist and draw your fingers up the curve of her waist and against her breasts, encouraged by her heavy breathing, her hands rubbing your bare legs, your dress hiked up. The heat simmers between you as she continues ministrations against your body. Your arousal sends you up against, but not over, the edge, and sensing this, she holds back teasingly, continuing to place feathering touches against your thigh as she rubs against you just where you want her.

“Is this good?” she whispers, tracing her fingers up your inner thigh to graze the fabric of your underwear, and you groan, “Yes, yes yes _please_,” and you just whimper, cling to her tighter as she wastes no time slipping under and pressing her hand against your swollen core.

“That’s what I like to hear,” she whispers as she moves fluidly, using her thigh and fingers to rub against you. She captures your lips, and you groan into her smirking, smothering mouth. Beyond her, you see the stars in the black sky. Her eyes study you with desire. You slide your fingers beneath her dress and rub her on the outside of her underwear, enough to tease her. She responds with a melting moan, undulating into you. Still kissing you, she moans approvingly when you take that as a cue to go under, and here you are, on a rooftop under the stars sharing a moment you didn’t think you’d get with a woman you’d wanted since that first day she’d gazed at you with mixed flirtation and questioning regard in her office. When you feel your pleasure peaking, she puts a playful “hush” finger to her lips and captures your mouth, smothering the sound with an urgent, simmering kiss.

You lay there, her on top of you, head against your chest, knowing that when this moment is over it might be… over. And you are certain now that you don’t want that. Her hair is brushing against your arm, and you are focused on the feeling of her heart and heaving breath as she comes down from the last fervent climax. She follows your gaze and then regards you for a moment. “What are you thinking?” she asks.

_I want to always be doing this with you._

You shrug. “I’m glad you made me come out here.”

She buries her face into your shoulder and you realize she’s suppressing a laugh.

“I know,” you say. “_You told me so_.”

She stands, does a little shimmy to readjust her clothing, and you are totally absolutely changed forever by the carefree way she pulls her dress strap onto her shoulder. She holds out a hand to you. “Let’s get out of here.”

You take her hand and you leave with her, and you know it will not be the last time she brings you here, to this place she has brought you.


End file.
